I have been spending a chunk of time browsing the web. Jumping from one blog to another, like a kid skipping on the top of stones across a river. It is a rush, full of discovery and occasional slips into a time warp.

Most of my posts are full of recipes and methods, but I couldn’t resist sharing some of the great blogs, posts, information and editorials from my web-inspired river hopping:

• I loved finding this post all about roasted garlic from the Hungry Mouse; I ADORE roasted garlic. Its heavenly smells have been seeping out of my oven for years and years. I loved the photos, the explanations, and the ideas for making garlic butter and garlic oil. One of my favorite appetizers includes roasted garlic—and blue cheese.

• Gina posted about white bean puree on crostini; I couldn’t help but be taken by the simplicity of the recipe—a quick how-to. Mostly because in many restaurants here in Italy, mixed crostini is a standard appetizer. And white bean puree is always included… and enjoyed! Since you have the roasted garlic or garlic oil (above), you could mix a bit of that in too…

• I met Eila from the Full Plate Blog, a fellow chef and mom who appreciates the wisdom behind freezing meals to stave off future insanity; here is a quick list of some of her freezer meals. (I have her enchilada recipes bookmarked for future use).

• Antonietta of Cipolli wrote a post called ‘For the Love of Tomatoes’; I mean, say no more. You say tomato, I say tomato. I always have a craving for tomatoes! A very fun blog find, especially since she seems to crave a lot of the same foods… (ragu, tomatoes, eggs, bacon…).

• Kitchenography wrote a post about tuna salad casserole! If I were in a grave, I would SO be rolling over in it. But check out the site, photos, recipes—all so beautifully laid out. And with enough moxie to bring up ‘tuna casserole.’ I confess, I am going to make it; it has been years since I tasted tuna salad casserole and wisely—Julie put in Pepperjack Cheese.

• Finally, Chowmama is a site that has my attention. Not to mention the same brainwaves: the same day we posted on the merits of making risotto a family staple! I find I am attracted to well-thought out, well-written sites. It is a great intro if you want to learn more about risotto (and here is my synchronized post of mushroom risotto).

I feel like I am making up New Year’s resolutions as a I go. I seem to have sidestepped the pressure of December 31. But the things I want to accomplish continue to hit my mental temples and I feel the need to organize. No surprise there.

One of the things that keeps showing up in my mind’s eye, is my desire to teach my sons how to cook. And I don’t mean just squishing whole, canned tomatoes with your hands. Nor do I mean following a recipe for cookies, or making scrambled eggs. They can already do that.

What I mean to teach them is a ’sense’ of cooking. A little more about cooking technique, methodology and food science—explaining to them the process, showing them texture, encouraging them to taste, taste, taste (to determine the desired end result: more seasoning? too al dente?). It is the ability to cook without a recipe, to learn to use your senses.

My sons both love risotto, focaccia and chicken parmayonnaise, for example. So I plan to have just one of them at a time, team up with me for dinner-making. They will learn without even realizing it, absorbing mentally and physically things like how to properly hold a knife, how to knead or skin tomatoes, and how to make mayonnaise (and therefore, what’s an emulsion?). They will learn to make risotto by feel, and add oils and stock by observation. Or when making bechamel, they will learn that when you add milk or cream you need to heat it first, so it won’t freak out and curdle.

There is a lot to teach, yet it is comforting to proceed sans lesson plans. Just show up in my kitchen, and lets cook together. You cut the onions, I will get the water going…

My husband knew how to cook, and when we were first dating, made me an elaborate meal. It was impressive. And here I am, raising boys and hoping to imbue upon them the same independence and skill in the kitchen.

Tonight, Anthony and I made mushroom risotto. (In fact, we eat mushroom risotto almost every week! It easily qualifies as a default dinner).

Mushroom Risotto
1 cup arborio rice
about 6 cups chicken stock
1/4 cup white wine
1/4 cup minced shallots
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
2-3 T olive oil (or bacon fat)
seasonings (coarse salt, white pepper, italian herbs, etc.)
2 cups mushrooms, sliced or roughly chopped
1/3 cup shredded Parmesan
2-3 T butter

[Here I go in teaching mode]: Gather all ingredients. Gather all tools and pots you will need (one for stock, one for the risotto, a skillet for the mushrooms, a knife and cutting board, wooden spoon, cheese grater, ladle. You could use measuring cups, but today we are cooking without them). Place stock on stove and heat to a simmer; meanwhile dice shallots, garlic, mushrooms and shred Parmesan. In large pot, heat oil/fat over medium then add shallots/garlic. Caramelize. (Is it browning to quickly? Adjust the heat down a bit…). I often add some seasoning here. Add arborio and stir to coat (too dry? add more oil). After about a minute, add the wine (I often toss in a bit of brandy or sherry, too)—half a glass full. [He said he imagined pouring it into the glass: bravo!].

Let it burn off, stir a bit then add 1-2 ladles of chicken stock. Give an occasional stir so, but let it do its thing (you don’t want it to stick). [why not add the liquid all at once? great question]. Two Three reasons: 1. we want to work with the rice, not drown it, and 2. because then you cannot control the amount of liquid. It is had to know the exact amount you will need until you taste it at the end. 3. you can always add more liquid, but once it is in, you can’t take it out. Too much liquid makes it mushy. We are aiming for just al dente—aka a little chew left in the rice.

Small note: just after you add the second round of stock, add some oil/butter to your skillet, up it just north of medium and saute the mushrooms. Once they have released their liquid [brace yourself on our analogy: cooking them on high to get them to release their liquid... is like tickling them until they pee], lower heat. Once the risotto is finished, I put a big pile of mushrooms on top (works well too, if you have a kiddo that doesn’t like mushrooms—just don’t add the topper).

The liquid has been absorbed, add another 2 ladles. Stir, let it absorb, stir. On the third addition only add 1 ladle. At this point you are going to start deciding how much more liquid you do/don’t want to put in. Once it is almost completely absorbed, get some grains on your spoon and taste. A little chewy? Perfect. If it is too chewy, you can add a little stock at a time until you are happy with the texture. Add Parmesan and butter. Off heat and stir, adjust seasonings (by tasting, again).

Side note: Anthony was willing to get into character by wearing an apron (with a fish photo on front)! And I had him tuck the towel on his backside, something I learned at culinary school. That way, you aren’t dragging a towel in your food and your front always looks neat and clean!

Bonus tip: the next morning, saute the remainder of your mushroom risotto and top it with a poached egg, a few grinds of salt and pepper and send them off to school. Voila!

One of my culinary goals while living in Tuscany is to learn to make great focaccia.

I confess, I am more of a ‘cooker’ than a ‘baker’ and yeast doughs and breads are not a consuming part of my repertoire. But that doesn’t mean it is going to stay that way. I mean to learn the yin and yang of yeast in 2010. Even if I have to throw the dough against the wall a few times.

This being my intent, in the last few months I have probably made focaccia 20 some odd times. I have used a few different recipes, combined them, retested them, made focaccia with too much salt and too little. Had super thick focaccia (in too small a pan?) and focaccia I find too flat and hard. Should I let it rise twice? Let it rise longer? Knead it more… or less?

One interesting thing I learned along the way is that focaccia isn’t just focaccia. There isn’t just one way to make it—better said, there isn’t one be-all, end-all recipe that is the “official” focaccia. In fact, focaccia preferences change from person to person. Much like cookies, some prefer the crispy flat variety, while others like one with a lot of loft and chew. And that’s not all. Do you prefer raisins or walnuts, chocolate chunks or toffee bits in you cookies? Do you drink it with milk… tea? coffee?

We all have our habits, our preferences, our ‘mmmmm’ moments that are different than the next guy. I like that about people.

How do you like your focaccia?

My 14 year old likes his thick, preferably with bits of rosemary and salt on top. He would gladly eat it with spliced garlic or caramelized onions baked into the crust. My other son is 13 and likes it mid-loft, high enough to cut for sandwiches and without all the extras. Salt for him, is key. James (hubby) likes his on the flatter, chewier side. Mario Batali (one of the handful of recipes I tried) has a recipe for a Sicilian focaccia that is to James liking. Me? I think somewhere in the middle, not too high, not too flat. A bit crispy around the edges but soft in the middle. I love to eat it plain, with a bit of new olive oil and course salt for dipping… or try this brilliant dip (a family favorite!).

This recipe is the one I have settled on. Will I tweak it later? Perhaps, but it works pretty consistently.

Focaccia
4 cups flour (save out 1/2 cup for dusting the counter-top)
1 cup water, warm
1 small pkg instant yeast
2 T olive oil (Mario puts up to 4T)
1 T salt (feel free to adjust)
2 tsp sugar
toppings: brush olive oil over top and add [optional] toppings: kosher salt, Italian Herbs, chopped fresh rosemary, thinly sliced tomatoes, thinly sliced garlic, caramelized onions…

let yeast rest 5-10 minutes in water, until dissolved/bubbles. Combine sugar, salt, 3 1/2 cups flour, olive oil in bowl (wooden spoon). Add water/yeast to combine. Knead for 10 minutes, until soft and pliable (I am still getting a feel for this). In oiled bowl, with oiled saran wrap, let rise in warm place for an hour. (You may punch down, shape the dough/put in pan and let rise again for another 30 minutes, under a towel. I don’t always). Shape into focaccia rectangle—I push mine into a 9×13, then dimple it before drizzling with olive oil and salt. Bake at 400 for 30 minutes.

One last thing. This really does well for the budget. I can buy flour here for pennies, and make loads of delicious focaccia. Being budget wise serves me particularly well, especially since I have growing adolescent mouths boys!

Well we did it. We found a new family favorite—fondly referred to as a default dinner.

Ever since landing in Italy, I have noticed a recurring menu item in restaurants in and around Tuscany: wild boar sauce. You would have laughed—out loud—if you had been there the first time I was trying to explain to a nearby Italian butcher that I wanted to buy wild boar. Hairy pig was about all I could manage. And even then, it took one butcher writing down the word ‘cinghiale’ so I could go ask at the next butcher if they had any (it is not always available, and sometimes only frozen, but still delicious).

One butcher even went so far as to try to explain to me how to cook cinghiale… which is so sweet, but I didn’t know a lick of Italian and he knew absolutely no English (even despite the excited hand gestures and repetition, I didn’t learn any Italian on the spot. I did gather he used garlic and carrots… which worked for me, since I intended to use it anyway). I happily bought some, and I have been making wild boar ragu over and again. Sometimes I put it with pasta (we prefer it with PICI pronounced /pee-chee/ as in the folders we doodled on in elementary school); pici is similar to bucatini, a thick spaghetti, round not flat. It is usual in Tuscany, and I have been told it is a specialty of the city of Pienza. When not using pasta as a vehicle for our new favorite ragu, I gingerly ladle it onto soft polenta: heaven.

Actually, first I had to learn to make polenta to my liking. Which I did. Then I had to try a number of rounds with cinghiali to learn its characteristics and adjust the seasoning. It is a lean meat, but I cut off the silver skin (the white stuff that looks like film instead of white-looking fat; silver skin doesn’t cook it just stays chewy. So cut it off whenever you can; fat, on the other hand, lends flavor and renders while cooking). The keys to success [for this ragu anyway] are: dice the boar into 1/4 inch cubes, add a dash of brandy or Vin Santo, make sure to season with adequate salt and don’t skimp on the red pepper flakes and finally let it simmer for almost 2 hours.

I actually love dishes that require lengthy simmers. You know the flavors are happily co-mingling, you have plenty of time to fuss with side dishes or table settings or pouring yourself some wine while plucking casually at a bowl of olives.

Wild Boar Ragu
1 LB wild boar, diced
2-3 T olive oil (my boys would say: how many ‘gluggs’ of oil mom? I would say 2, dear.)
1 small onion
4-5 cloves garlic
1/2 cup carrots, finely diced
1/3 cup celery, finely diced
1/4 cup Vin Santo or Brandy
1 cup (plus) of [homemade if you have it] chicken stock
1 ‘wine glass full’ of red wine (I couldn’t resist, that is what the butcher said… of course I understood the words ‘bicchiere’ and ‘vino’)
seasonings: kosher salt, coarsely ground pepper (I use white pepper but black is fine), parsley (or ‘default herbs’), red pepper flakes
2-3 T tomato paste, as needed

Prep ingredients, grab wooden spoon and saute pan. Heat pan on low/medium. Add oil, when it shimmers add garlic, onion, carrots and celery and a few grinds of salt. Let simmer 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add boar and saute for another 5-7 minutes. Add Vin Santo or Brandy. Let cook off for about 5 minutes. Add chicken stock and let simmer for an hour. Add red wine and let simmer another hour. 15 minutes before finished, add in seasonings. In the last 5 minutes stir in tomato paste to desired consistency. Fabulous served on top of polenta, tagliatelle, pici, bucatini, pappardelle… have at it!

I have a small fridge, and my freezer hardly qualifies as a lunch box. But the wild boar is worth the real estate: I bought out my butcher. He had 3 packages of wild boar (frozen—but still brilliant) and I bought them all. So let me know if you are in the neighborhood (Florence, Italy) and stop by for some ragu already!

Talk of Tomatoes focuses on my culinary adventures and curiosities (which for now is in Tuscany); just so you know, my family is blogging about our year abroad. Feel free to peek at our discoveries, souvenirs and mishaps at family frolics. We recently visited Bologna (perhaps one of the best meals of my life), Orvieto (twice!), Perugia (the chocolate really is that amazing) and Lucca (cold, wet in December—but full of great kitchen stores).

I could just call this ‘resolute salad,’ since it is my quick version of a New Year’s resolution. It is that time of year again to reverse the results of holiday eating and imbibing, to go lighter on the bread, cut down portion size and drink water like it is going out of style. But one need not suffer.

In fact, this salad is a preferable choice for lunch. And the beans and tuna give it enough ‘meat’ to keep your belly happy for hours (no need for mid afternoon lunching to fill the watery-lettuce void). The white beans are classic Italian fare (white or cannellini beans), as is the tuna, arugula and fabulous olive oil.

Arugula, White Bean and Tuna Salad
arugula
white beans (from a can works)
tuna fish (packed in olive oil, then drained)
olive oil, to taste
kosher salt and coarse pepper (KS&CP)

Pile ingredients.

A few twists:

• I like to add shaved Parmesan, I think the salty bite is brilliant against the tangy arugula and tuna.
  We use our best olive oil, since it goes straight from the bottle to our mouths (we use our second class olive oil for cooking).
  We differ in opinion on this, while my husband skips the balsamic, sometimes I add a squirt of reduced balsamic vinegar.
  You could add: really seasonal, perfectly ripened cherry or baby Roma tomatoes.
  Lots of freshly ground pepper is key, the more the better.

New Year’s resolutions aside… or forward… this really is a healthy, scrumptious lunch.

It’s official: I make my own tomato sauce. Not that I used jarred versions before, but now I seem to use A LOT of tomato sauce, making it constantly, with batches to fill my freezer and frequently—even daily—it seems I have a simmering pan full of tomatoes on the stove top. Which, if you think about the name of my blog and the country in which I currently reside… makes a lot perfect sense!

The kitchen here (in our apartment in Florence, Italy) is without a microwave, Cuisinart, kitchen aid, mixer, hand-held mixer, immersion blender, small chopper, and quite frankly even a good knife. I know—you didn’t feel sorry for me until I said knife. Wielding a good knife covers a multitude of kitchen inadequacies. I have one knife that seems like it is 2 feet long and about 1/2 inch high (god forbid I turn quickly and slice off my kitchen curtains). Another knife is serrated… on both sides. And my third and last knife has a decent blade, but the handle is warped from the dishwasher and pinches the skin between my thumb and forefinger… but who am I to complain? I am cooking in Italy, living abroad, and trying seasonal and local ingredients in Tuscany.

And on an important note, despite all of those aforementioned luxury tools that aren’t at my behest, I found a new tool that I have grown rather fond of: a classic food mill. It was tucked above the stove, on the top shelf in the back of a forgotten cupboard. And since I arrived it has landed on my counter with increasing frequency. In fact, it might be safe to say I now use it every day. That is what one does, without the specialty blenders and mixers and ability to puree… you find a way. And now I am very-nearly addicted to using this tomato skin-shedding, potato mashing, soup-pureeing device. Perhaps that is why my lunch-box-size freezer is full of tomato sauce and pizza sauce (different disks in this hand-propelled contraption offer varying thick to thin textures)?

Tomato sauce is useful when building things. And I don’t mean legos. But I grab some out of the freezer (or the nearby ‘daily’ pot of sauce) to layer lasagna, to make a quick pasta sauce (just add some pancetta or sausage or use it as is on some cheese ravioli), eggplant Parmesan, cannelloni, and next up: baked white fish in tomato sauce (seems to be a popular menu item here in Tuscany).  Oh and for the pizza sauce: I use the largest-holed disk first, then move to the smallest, so I have a really smooth sauce to top pizzas.

… do I even need a chopper?

Basic Tomato Sauce
2-3 T olive oil
4-5 cloves garlic
3 shallots
1/2 cup carrots, finely diced
Italian seasoning
kosher salt
1 1/2 LBS tomatoes, roughly chopped
Optional: tomato paste
Optional: 1 can Roma tomatoes (San Marzano)

Note: this ‘recipe’ is merely a guideline. It changes daily, depending on what I have on hand: a combination of cherry tomatoes and heirloom tomatoes, canned tomatoes and/or some Romas. The important thing is start with a good base, season it well and let it simmer to develop its flavors. You can adjust the consistency in the end by adding (or not) a few Tablespoons of tomato paste.

Heat skillet over low/medium heat. Add oil, when it shimmers add garlic, shallots, carrots, seasonings and salt. Stir occasionally, and saute for 10 minutes. Add diced tomatoes, turn heat to low (just maintain a tiny simmer) and let cook for 1/2 hour- 1 hour, stirring occasionally. If using canned tomatoes, add them after the fresh tomatoes have simmered for 20-30 minutes. When finished, off heat and grind through food mill into another bowl. Grind first with large-holed disk, then smaller if desired. Decide if you like the consistency or want it thicker—if you want it a bit thicker, stir in some tomato paste.

I use basic tomato sauce in some of my FAVORITE recipes, here:

• secret-recipe lasagna
• Italian layered dish
• eggplant Parmesan